


The Space in Between

by Yrindor



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Valentine's Day, White Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 17:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14000616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yrindor/pseuds/Yrindor
Summary: Extenuating circumstances make it harder to navigate the give and take of a relationship, but that only makes it that much sweeter when the pieces finally fit together.





	The Space in Between

The silence that follows the departure of his team always seems to echo in the hospital room, the only traces of the liveliness of the past few hours another plastic flower for the growing bouquet in the window and a pack of gum he adds to the collection in the drawer by his bed. Neither Sanada nor Yanagi are loud when they visit. Yagyuu isn't either, but Niou is, with chaos following his pranks, and Bunta is, bouncing from one place to another every few seconds, and Jackal can be, especially around the other two. It's unusual for so much of the team to be around at once. Sanada always comes. Akaya rarely does. Everyone stops by here and there in ones and twos.

Then there are the rare days when somehow schedules align, and everyone descends at once. This time it was a welcome distraction after a hard day, but it's now later than anticipated, and such visits always take more out of him than he expects. There's one more item on his to-do list for the day―a very important one he's been thinking about all week―but it doesn't look like he'll be able to finish it now. He hates that, but if willpower alone were enough to overcome the limitations of his body, he would have been out of the hospital months ago.

He picks up his phone. " _Renji_ ," he begins, " _I need a favor_." The voice recognition on his phone is far from perfect, but he trusts that Yanagi will be able to sort out any errors.

The next morning, Yanagi appears in the doorway carrying a bag from the hospital gift shop.

"You're early," Yukimura remarks.

"Genichirou requested to meet before class," Yanagi replies. "To discuss the order for the next match; he's still hesitant about putting Akaya in singles."

Yukimura sighs. "Genichirou will not lose. Our doubles should win too; you have data on this team, and doubles is their weakness. Even if one of them should lose, you will not. Tell Genichirou he worries too much."

"I didn't mean to trouble you, especially so early," Yanagi says. "We will win. Focus on your own recovery, and Rikkai will be undefeated when you return. I brought the item you requested. I will ensure Sanada comes alone after practice."

"Thank you," Yukimura says. Then, after the door slides shut, "I'm sorry for troubling you." He knows how much Yanagi has done for him these past few months, just as he knows Yanagi will never admit to the burden he and the team have shouldered. They are all too proud to admit to the difficulty of covering the hole left by their absent captain, but Yukimura can feel it nonetheless.

His nurse arrives to help him to his first appointment and interrupts that train of thought. The rest of the day unfolds in a string of appointments that seem at once interminable and fleeting, and then the nurse is wishing him a good rest of his day as she leaves at the end of her shift. It's his cue that Sanada will arrive soon, and if he wishes to be up and out of bed before then, he needs to start moving now. It's difficult for Sanada to see him in bed. It's difficult to be in bed when he should be on the tennis court. There's enough that's difficult right now that he tries to make things easier where he can.

He should get up, except he had a long session with his physical therapist today, and then with the occupational therapists, and then the respiratory therapist, and he is exhausted. He's come a long way from when he could be little more than a passive participant for the stream of therapists who came by his bedside, but the hours he now spends fighting muscles that won't obey are tiring, and he still has a long way left to go. He used to think nothing of long volleys with his teammates, but his illness has turned even the seemingly simple task of moving to sit by the window into something that needs to be broken down into smaller parts—sit up, shift to the edge of the bed, stand, walk across the room, turn, sit. He could probably manage that much, except sitting up and breathing use some of the same muscles, and he knows he can't sustain both for any length of time.

In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have pushed himself quite so hard today. He's the captain of the reigning national champions, and his team, and Sanada, need him, but he's still bound by the limits his illness sets. He settles instead for raising the head of his bed and combing out his hair with his fingers as best as he can. The gift Yanagi picked up for him is on the bedside table within easy reach.

He brushes a stray curl out of his face and sets Brahms playing softly in the background as he waits for Sanada. It isn't going to be an easy greeting; he wishes he could make it easier.

Sanada arrives a few minutes later. Yukimura recognizes him even before he enters. No one else's footsteps echo quite the same way down the hallway, and no one else knocks quite so firmly.

"Yukimura," Sanada says as he slides open the door. He stops when he sees Yukimura still in bed. "Yukimura?"

The sudden concern in Sanada's voice is subtle enough most people would miss it, but Yukimura knows him too well to be fooled. "I'm fine, Genichirou, just tired. Come. Sit. I have something for you."

"For me?" Sanada asks.

Yukimura slides the bag in his direction. "Happy Valentines Day, Genichirou," he says as Sanada unwraps the box of heart-shaped chocolates from the gift shop.

"…Valentines Day?"

"You lost track of the days again, didn't you?" Yukimura tries to keep his tone light, but he can already feel the mood shifting.

Sanada's face falls. "I have failed. I should have—"

"You have visited every single day, even when I couldn't be much company. That's a greater gift than anything I could give."

"I still should have remembered," Sanada says, and Yukimura wishes he could wipe away that guilt. It's not Sanada's fault he has taken on too much during the past few months.

"You've done more than enough, Genichirou. Did you finalize the roster for the match on Thursday?" he asks, trying to steer the conversation back to less fraught territory.

Sanada takes the hook, and they spend the rest of the afternoon discussing play styles and strategies. When Sanada leaves, he takes the chocolates. "Happy Valentines Day, Yukimura. Thank you," he says.

"You're welcome," Yukimura replies, but the shadow of guilt continues to linger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sanada runs through his mental checklist one last time. He's already been through it twice, but he's determined to make up for last month's error. He's had a paper calendar on his wall counting down days for the past four weeks as well as regular reminders on his phone. He made it through all of his classes and through practice with minimal distractions, and now he's walking down the familiar hospital corridor. When he reaches Yukimura's room, he shifts the box he's carrying to free a hand to knock.

"Come in," Yukimura calls.

The sun setting through the window nearly blinds him when he opens the door. As his eyes adjust, he sees Yukimura sitting in his usual chair by the window, but something is different; he's wearing his Rikkai jersey with his jacket draped over his shoulders. It's something Sanada hasn't seen in a long time, not since the day Yukimura collapsed and Sanada feared he might never see it again. It's a fear that has followed him these past several months, stronger some days than others, but always clinging to the back of his mind.

"You look well today," Sanada says.

"I feel well. Today seemed to call for something special."

Sanada sets his box on the table at Yukimura's side. "I brought something for you," he says. He takes out a clay pot that holds a half dozen miniature succulents arranged around sand and rocks.

At the end of January, Yukimura asked him to check on his flower garden. In the stress and uncertainty surrounding the worst weeks of Yukimura's illness, no one had remembered to prepare his plants for the winter, and he was forced to report back that none of them had survived the cold.

He still remembers the way Yukimura's face fell before Yukimura smoothed it back into his characteristic half-smile, covering the slip with a comment on the fragility of life and a promise to replant the garden come spring. It's easy to believe that the half-smile is the true Yukimura, but he knows Yukimura too well for that. He notices the way it pains Yukimura every time someone sends him cut flowers and they inevitably wilt. He's not a gardener himself, but he asked around and did his research until he found the perfect gift. It's the least he can do when he is responsible for the death of Yukimura's garden; he should have remembered to check on it long before Yukimura asked.

He knows he's chosen well when he sets it on Yukimura's table and his captain runs a finger along every smooth leaf and gently touches each spine. "It's beautiful, Genichirou. Thank you."

"There's something else too, if you're up for going out?"

"Of course."

"It's across the hospital," Sanada says. "If you want a wheelchair…"

"I can walk," Yukimura replies.

It's no longer the production it once was to get Yukimura out of his chair and to his walker, but Sanada still leaves a hand hovering over the belt across Yukimura's back just in case he's needed.

"I walked the length of the room on my own in physical therapy today," Yukimura says once they're in the hallway. "Tomorrow I get to start working on stairs."

Sanada drops his hand. Yukimura still looks so frail compared to the captain Sanada remembers, but a month ago, Yukimura struggled to walk across his room. A month before that, he couldn't even sit up. Maybe, two months from now, Yukimura will even be able to join them on the court again.

Yukimura is out of breath by the time Sanada shows him to a corner table in the indoor garden that houses one of the hospital's cafes, but he smiles as he strokes the ivy winding up the wall beside them. "They really have done a beautiful job in here," he remarks.

One waiter brings over a teapot and two cups. Another sets a plate of grilled fish on the center of the table.

"Happy White Day, Yukimura," Sanada says as he pours tea and serves the fish between them.

"Thank you. This looks wonderful."

They eat in companionable silence, and when they finish, they pick up the conversation easily from where it left off. Under the table, Yukimura's hand brushes against his, and he takes it. Yukimura's palm is soft now, the calluses that once matched his own almost entirely faded. They will blister when he picks up a racket again.

"It will be okay, Genichirou," Yukimura says, squeezing his hand gently.

Sanada knows it's not quite what Yukimura meant, but seeing Yukimura sitting across from him at a real table, his Rikkai jacket draped over his shoulders, he finally believes his captain will return. He's told himself that hundreds of times since December, but he's never fully believed it before.

Eventually he lets go of Yukimura's hand to refill their tea, but Yukimura stops him as he reaches for the pot. "Let me."

Yukimura's hands tremble slightly as he pours, but when Sanada takes his cup, his hands aren't much steadier.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the 2017 TeniPuri Valentine Zine "Love Game." If you enjoyed it, please consider checking out the rest of the zine [here](https://tenipurivalezine.tumblr.com/post/170870971343/happy-valentines-day-our-prince-of-tennis).


End file.
